


Bloodstream

by frankabagnale



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Cas always looks so sad, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, so I had to write this okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-02
Updated: 2015-05-02
Packaged: 2018-03-28 18:17:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3864889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frankabagnale/pseuds/frankabagnale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean’s sort of sure his heart has stopped at this point. Or his brain stopped telling him it still works. Whatever. He feels like he’s falling through the fucking ground because he was not ready for this conversation – never is, never will be – about what this thing between them really is. This irrational pull between two different beings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodstream

Dean fidgets for a few seconds before he thinks, _ohwhatthehell_ , and makes the three steps that are dividing him from Cas, who is sat on the bench.   
  
They were on their way to another hunt after saying goodbye to Claire, having been called by an old acquaintance of Sam’s, saying there were strange deaths happening in town. Straight back into it, Dean thought. Why not.  
The drive was over twelve hours and somewhere just after the seventh, Sam decided they should stop for the night, pointing to a motel sign they just passed.   
  
There might have been some luck in the fact that the motel was by a lake - the sun was just setting, painting the sky a dark, deep red and with a rosy halo. Dean snorted _can someone spell corny_  but wished he didn’t the very second he saw Cas’ disappointed face. “I’m going to sit outside for a bit, you two go in,” the angel announced just as they were gathering their bags for the motel.   
The younger brother nodded quickly and added something about going straight to bed while Dean – Dean didn’t really know what to do with himself. If he’s being honest, he hasn’t really slept in ages without dreams of death, blood and that fucking blade. Maybe he should just join Cas, who has apparently decided on admiring the sunset, sat on a bench right across the parking lot, almost at the lake side.  
  
Dean attempts not to analyse Cas’ expression as he approaches him but it’s hard not to. He has this mesmerised expression painted on his face with a tinge of sadness. Perpetual sadness. _Why are you always so sad_ , Dean thinks. _Why?_  
“Heya Cas,” he says with a light smile as he sits down next to the ancient being, “You okay?”  
  
“Why are you asking?” is Cas’ reply in lieu of actually answering, but he doesn’t look at Dean. “You look…” _sad, so sad_ , “- a bit troubled, so I thought I’d check if you’re okay,” Dean finishes lamely and sighs. He starts to fidget with his feet again, feeling like a teenager nervous about everything in the world. He’s always like this around Cas. Never knowing what to say. How to act, how to respond. Normalcy and any kind of expectations sort of evaporate when it comes to the angel.   
  
“Metatron,” is Cas’ proper reply and Dean frowns.   
“What about him?”  
“I lied to you. I was able to retrieve my grace because we kidnapped Metatron from Heaven.” Dean doesn’t really know how to reply to this without shouting, so he just purses his lips together as Cas continues. “He escaped, of course,” Dean is already rolling his eyes but before he can start bitching, Cas finishes off with a confusing, “…but that’s not what’s bothering me, ultimately.”  
_Huh._ Dean takes a few deep breaths, trying to ignore the fact that Cas yet again lied to him and the fact that the Mark is absolutely loving this. Cas still won’t look at him and is trying his best to stick to his side of the bench.   
The hunter decides on doing this diplomatically so he takes another deep breath before continuing. “Not that I’m not angry that you’ve lied to me, again,” he says with a somewhat angry tone, “but we’ll get back to that later. What is bothering you then?”  
  
In that moment Cas turns and those fucking blue eyes are looking straight through him. He feels naked when the angel does this and a shiver goes through him, like a cold shower.   
“Do you really want to be having this conversation right now?”   
  
And oh, _okay._  There is only one thing Cas could be possibly referring to. Dean swallows the lump in his throat. He’s never ready for this conversation, because he thinks it will never come. He doesn’t know whether to escape before Cas can utter another word or brave through it.  
  
“Tell me,” it escapes his mouth before he thinks and the angel’s mouth curves slightly at the sides. “He was so annoying,” Cas adds, “but out of all of his senseless queries, there was one that stuck with me and I cannot stop thinking about it.”  
  
“What was it?” Dean’s heart is thunder against his ribcage, he sort of knows where this conversation is leading purely by the way Cas is looking at him. He’s not sure he can take this right now, because he’d feel as if he got and lost everything all at once. He’s not ready to break his own fucking heart.  
“He asked me what my mission was,” is Cas’ wary reply, “what my cause of existing is now.”  
  
“Getting Heaven in order, isn’t it?” Dean’s voice is shaking slightly and he doesn’t know what to do with his fucking hands. He decides to tuck then between his thighs before he does something irrational.  
“No,” Cas looks up high into the sky and Dean always liked to imagine the Angel sees more than he does when he looks up. “Hannah’s got everything under control, I am not needed.”  
  
“So you’re going through an existential crisis then? How very middle age of you, Cas,” Dean chuckles, for a second hoping that this conversation isn’t leading where he thought it was.  
“No, that’s not it…” the angel picks up a small rock from the ground and throws it into the lake. “Truth is, in that very moment, I realised Heaven was never really my mission. It was always a secondary cause. And I believe that realisation has managed to make me rethink everyting I have done in the past.”  
“Oh,” Dean tries to add something smart to the conversation before Cas cuts him off with, “It was you. Everything I have ever done was for you.”  
  
Dean’s sort of sure his heart has stopped at this point. Or his brain stopped telling him it still works. Whatever. He feels like he’s falling through the fucking ground because he was not ready for this conversation – never is, never will be – about what this thing between them really is. This irrational pull between two different beings.  
“For millennia, I did what I was told to do. I did so in effort to survive. In Heaven, you either complied or end up killed.” Cas continues as if he didn’t just twist Dean’s heart into an unrecognizable mess, “But then I was sent to save you. And at first I didn’t notice it. But from then on-“ Cas stutters and Dean’s dying to say something because he looks so disappointed in himself, “From then on… it was all for you. Sometimes I feel as if,” Cas averts his face to the ground with a sad smile, “As if I’ve been waiting for you for since the beginning of time. I’ve killed my brothers and sisters for you. And truth be told,” he’s almost whispering, as if confessing a sin, “I would do it again. I would spill their blood again to save you time and time again. And that,” he finishes, “scares me, Dean.”  
  
So, okay. What do you do when a celestial being confesses to you that he’s capable of ending the world for you? Dean doesn’t know. Doesn’t know how to make this better. He knows tomorrow might bring something completely different – hell, he might not even see tomorrow. How to talk about something that very obviously has an expiration date?  
  
“Y’know,” he finally finds his voice, “back then in the barn, when you waltzed in with your whole holy wrath thing,” he’s chuckling at the reminder and he can see the angel’s lips curving into a small smile too, “I was so scared. But at the same time, you felt so familiar. Like,” he’s swallowing down another lump in his throat, “like you were a part of me that I sort of lost somewhere on the way. And when you died,” he doesn’t like thinking about this, “and left me God knows how many times,” he doesn’t like thinking about that _either_ , “I kept feeling as if you stabbed me directly into the heart and left the knife there for the next opportunity to twist it again.” He’s never told him this, but Dean thinks it’s time Cas knows. It’s time he knows what he does to Dean.  
  
“I’ve killed and spilled so much blood for you too, Cas,” he adds, “but somewhere along the way I’ve realised this is how we are.”  
  
“When does this end, though?” Cas is asking sincerely, Dean realises with a breaking heart. “Where do we stop?”  
  
“Oh well,” he attempts a nervous laugh, “Till death does us part?”  
“You know that won’t stop me. And that too, scares me.”   
Dean blanks for a second when he realise it wouldn't stop him either.  
  
“Tell you what,” the hunter sighs, “if you promise me one thing, I’ll promise I’ll keep a tab on the morality of your actions and whatnot.”  
“Anything.”  
  
“Never leave me again.” Dean realises how desperate he sounds in that moment, but fuck if he cares. “I know this thing, this whatever there is between us has an end date and I never know if I’ll wake up a monster and hurt you and Sam, but-” he’s on the brink of tears, “I just. I just need you here with me, man.”  
Cas looks as if he’s pondering this situation. “Okay,” is his only reply and Dean exhales all at once, feeling as if a burden has been taken off his chest. Even the Mark is suddenly quieter.  
“Since death is never really the end with us,” Cas murmurs, “Dean, would you really like to spend the eternity with me?”  
_Yes, yes, a thousand times yes,_ his mind babbles inside his head before he can articulate a proper answer. In lieu of an answer, he just takes Cas’ face into his hands and gently leaves a kiss on his lips. The angel’s hands are already pulling him in more as he smiles, blindingly so, warming Dean and sending a shiver through him all at once. “I’ll take that as a yes.”


End file.
